Hydaelyn's Call
by Cale017
Summary: When C'ael'a Scaeth, a thief in Limsa Lominsa, finds himself caught by the Yellowjackets during a job, he's set on a path to discover a fate far more important than providing for his tribe. As one of Hydaelyn's chosen, he bears the power of the Echo... and with it, a responsibility to all of Eorzea.


He should have known it was a trap. He definitely knew now, with Yellowjackets streaming into the room from all sides. The intel had been sketchy at best, but he was desperate. Security in Limsa Lominsa had been tightening up lately, although he wasn't sure of just why exactly, and options for good marks were getting short.

But really, what rich old codger would just HAPPEN to have a gap in his house patrols for half an hour at this time of night?

With spears, axes, and Carbuncles surrounding him, and the keen eyes of the Yellowjackets staring at him from beneath their wide brimmed hats, all he could do was raise his hands, dropping the mythril statue clutched in his arms.

"C'ael'a Scaeth," the one with the biggest hat, he supposed the most important of the group, stepped out from the lines and unfurled a letter. "You are under arrest for the charge of grand larceny, petty theft, and evading arrest."

"Oh come on, I haven't evaded arrest yet!" C'ael'a responded, glancing up towards the rafters. Just a bit too far for him to leap up to, and with the Jackets around him he wouldn't be able to get past to clamber up a wall.

"I am referring to the seven other counts against you," the woman replied, stiffening her lip.

"Right, those," he chuckled, earning him a poke in the back. His tail stiffened for a moment as he leapt forwards slightly, turning his eyes over his shoulder to give the overeager lancer a glare. "Don't you folks have better things to do than catch some cat-thief?"

The irony of his joke was not lost on a few of the Yellowjackets, probably some of the newer recruits, that let out small laughs from his horrific pun.

The lieutenant, however, was having none of it. Folding the letter back up and placing it in one of the many pockets lining her sea-worthy trenchcoat she strode forwards, poking him in the chest. "No more running. We've got archers on the rooftop, and thaumaturges along the roadways ready to put you down even if you can make it off the grounds."

He rolled his eyes, arching a brow at the woman. "Archers and mages, just for me? You shouldn't have," he gave her a wide grin, the points of his slightly elongated canines practically gleaming in the dim light coming in through the window. "Still, the death penalty just for swiping a priceless crystalline bit of coin-in-the-waiting? Seems a bit excessive, doesn't it?"

This time it was the Jacket who grinned, making C'ael'a extremely concerned, although he wouldn't let that little bit of information show. "Oh, they won't kill you. Arrows lined with a powerful sedative, and the best sleepers we have. You, my elusive Mi'qote, are on a one way path to see my boss." With that she reached up to his hands, pulling them roughly down and behind his back, contorting so she could bind his wrists.

"OW, hey, watch it!" he protested, letting out a small hiss. "Those would be my money makers thank you very much! And which boss are you referring to, exactly? I can't recall crossing any of them directly."

She cinched down the bindings before removing the weapons from his leggings, both his combat daggers and a small collection of throwing knives. "That would be Admiral Bloefhiswyn."

Even in the pale light of the moon, C'ael'a blanched slightly. "Wh-whoa now, THAT is definitely excessive. Oh, by the way, you missed one." He lifted his foot upwards behind his thigh, giving his boot a rough shake to force yet another knife to clatter out across the pristine tiles. "And please be careful with those daggers, would you? One-of-a... well, two-of-a-kind."

"Cute." The lieutenant gave him a rough shove towards the door as the guards parted and reformed around him, starting to move him outside into the open just as clouds began covering up the silver disc cresting the stars, casting the entire world into the hazy shadows of torchlight. "The admiral has requested your presence in person, and has gone to great lengths to... ensure your meeting tonight."

He gave a shrug before dipping his head down, feigning defeat, and whipping it back up with a small knife gleaming between his teeth, his lips cockily pointed upwards at the lieutenant. "Thehn sheh prob'bly wood'n wahnna shee dis, huh?" he asked, dropping the knife to the floor.

Sure enough, he could catch the glint of arrows along the roofs, the faint shining of thaumaturgic energies emanating from the alleys along the road as he was marched down it. Merlwyb certainly did seem to want him. Had he unintentionally nicked some personal effect she had ordered from a passing transport? Perhaps that lovely Bandersnatch steak he'd gotten from the Culinarian's Guild was meant for her?

As he walked through the dimly lit streets of Limsa, the white path winding up through masts and across the rope-trimmed bridges the spanned the rocky cliffs jutting out of the sea that formed the backbone of the city, C'ael'a couldn't help but wonder just how he'd ended up in this spot. And more importantly, how he could get out of it.

* * *

With a rough shove, C'ael'a was planted firmly in the plush, velvety armchair of the Admiral's office. He hadn't even been able to make any smart quips on the trip up the Crow's Lift from the central hub of Limsa's aetheryte plaza and the Mizzenmast. Which was a shame, because now that he noticed as the guards walked away, one of them had an oddly pointed nose for a Roegadyn. He cast his gaze around the room, taking in the ornate golden framework surrounding the pictures of both Merlwyb and the former leaders of Limsa Lominsa's city-state, along with the intricate navigational tools lining the shelves, charts of the sea pinned to various walls along with movements of shipping barges and known locations of pirate crews. It was all very nice, but not even he was brazen enough to try getting into this office for any of it.

And he was reminded of just the reason why as the door opened and slammed behind him, the clacking of boots preceding the appearance of the tall, fair skinned Roegadyn, and leader of Limsa, Merlwyb Bloefhiswyn. The woman was a few heads taller than the average Hyur, with the thick musculature of her race hidden just beneath the black garments she wore. She regarded him coldly from above the oddly widened nose shared by all Roegadyn as she sat down behind her desk, leaning forwards and placing the gun on her waist down on the table between them, within easy reach and pointed directly at him.

"So, C'ael'a Scaeth at last," she said, pulling a copy of his charges out from her desk drawer. She read over it, placing one hand on the desk just behind the gun and drumming her fingers absently. "Attacking transports, sneaking away with valuable shipments, assaulting Yellowjacket officers—"

"Hey, they started those fights-"

"-breaking and entering, pickpocketing-"

"I can't help it if coinpurses fall off around me."

"-a rather hefty unpaid tab at the Drowning Wench, and last but certainly not least the theft of one lovely Bandersnatch steak, cooked to a steaming perfection, which I unfortunately never got to taste."

"Aha! So this IS about that steak!"

She folded down the paper, tossing it onto the desk. "Hardly," she gave a blunt response, leaning forwards and shaking her head. "Such a waste of potential. Your skills as a thief are hold overs from something else, and from what I've gathered together you're a recent arrival to my fair city."

"... you could say that, yeah," C'ael'a responded offhand, not meeting the Admiral's gaze.

The village burning. His father running off, mother tossing him his own daggers before stopping him chasing his father to help. He could still smell the magitek engines.

"Yet here you are, swiping popotoes from stalls and gil from the slow," she finished, arching her fingers together. "And you can drop the facade, I know your bindings are long undone."

He gave a lighthearted shrug, pulling his hands out from behind his back, dangling the rope that was binding them minutes before. "Oh, you're good," he admitted, tossing the threading to the side before reclining in the chair. "Gods, this is MUCH more comfortable."

"I spent enough of my youth on pirate crews to spot something so trivial," she scoffed, glaring at him. "And I understand that a certain... criminal element will always be present. If anything, it's good for any large city."

"Then why go through the trouble of picking me out of the rest to meet you personally?" he asked, clicking his tongue and reaching out for a small compass. So very pretty, with ruby inlaid markings and soft ivory trimmings around the glass. Must be nice to live like this.

"Precisely because I myself was once a petty thief," Merlwyb shot back, rising from her chair and walking over to the portrait of her predecessor. "This city was built by pirates, sustained by the trading routes the sea provided. Even if there were a way to completely eliminate crime around here, I wouldn't want to. It has, however, provided me with a keen eye for potential."

C'ael'a raised a brow. "Soooo... what? Gonna recruit me into the Jackets? Because I think I'll pass, yellow just isn't my color." He leaned forwards, smirking. "I'm sitting in the office of the single most important person for malms around, who could easily have me executed or thrown in jail by now, and yet I'm unbound and you seem rather at ease. What is it I can do for you, Admiral?"

"Oh, it ain't what ye can do fer the good Admiral," a voice nearly made C'ael'a jump out of his skin, his tail bristling outwards as a bandana wearing Hyur adorned with green and white fabrics, two daggers strapped to his waist, strode around the chair C'ael'a sat on to lean against the desk, grinning down at C'ael'a. "It'd be what ye can do fer your's truly."

C'ael'a hadn't even heard the door open.

"Ah, Captain Jacke," the Admiral said, turning around and giving him a nod before returning to her desk. "Thank you for joining us."

"I'd nary miss a summons from the esteemed Merlwyb Bloefhiswyn," he returned the nod before staring back down at C'ael'a. "So this'd be the light-fingered young Seeker of the Sun ye mentioned?"

C'ael'a looked between the two, relaxing once again. Or at least, he tried to give the appearance of having relaxed. "Half, on my father's side. Mother was a Keeper of the Moon. And you are...?"

"Ah, o'course, o'course. That just right makes sense, now dunnit?" Jacke laughed "Me? Why, I'm the guildmaster of the Rogue's Guild. What, ye can't recognize me? S'pose that means I be doin' me job right proper, then."

The Rogue's Guild? Rumors were ever present in taverns and among the street urchins, but most thought the Guild was a myth.

"Jacke is indeed one of my most useful comrades in keeping this ship afloat," Merlwyb crossed her arms. "And that Guild is part of the reason I wouldn't even consider squanching half of the crime in this city that I can."

"Right, me and mine are staunch followers o' the Code," Jacke nodded, glancing at the Admiral. "We form the intelligence network what keeps those in power ahead o' the tides of... well, whatever may come from the less'n proper parts 'round these shores." He raised a finger, giving another toothy smile. "And, more important to ye, I'd be here to offer you a place among our ranks." Jacke reached behind himself to toss C'ael'a's belt out onto the desk with a clatter of metal.

"... and if I don't want to join?" the black haired Mi'qote asked, already pretty much betting on the response, glancing between the gun on the table and his knives.

"I can either shoot you here and now," Merlwyb didn't move, but the gun seemed to give another glint as a cloud moved past the moon in the window behind her. "Or have you locked up in a cell I personally guarantee you won't weasel out of for the rest of your existence. Personally, I'd rather not have to get a new chair."

"Admiral's got the right of it," Jacke agreed. "That is a VERY lovely bit o' furniture. I fer one would much rather not have to put such a fine young thief locked away. Believe me lad, those ain't the kind of shadows ye'd like to live in."

C'ael'a swallowed, shifting in his chair. "Consider me convinced," he agreed, reaching out for his knives but quickly finding one of Jacke's pulled and hovering above his hand.

"Ah, ah," he tutted, shaking his head. "I'd be a damn fool t' let any poor sod into me guild without gettin' the heft of his heart beforehand just on the merits o' his deft fingers. Can't be no honor among thieves if there ain't trust come first, if ye follow."

"Not a thing gets into or out of this city without Jacke knowing," the Admiral chimed in, not reacting to Jacke pulling a knife. "Including the people. But what happens outside of it is a bit harder to track. Jacke here would probably feel much more at ease if he had a better understanding of where you're from."

"Aye, and whereabout your allegiances may lie," Jacke finished, pulling the knife back as C'ael'a leaned against his chair once more.

He crossed his arms over his chest, one boot raising to rest half crossed on his knee. C'ael'a was silent for a long moment before he scoffed and looked towards the two leaders. "My tribe was a small village, not far from the border with Gridania," he admitted, thinking back. "Outcasts, kind of. It wasn't common for different tribes to comingle, but my father and mother... well, they weren't about to let the traditions of the Keepers or the Seekers separate them. So they convinced members of their respective tribes who were a bit more liberal with the rules to venture off and form a new village."

"When my father was injured during a hunt, he took up blacksmithing and stuck to leading the village, a responsibility he shared with my mother when she was home," C'ael'a continued, looking at the elongated daggers on the table. Sinewy and smooth, beautifully curving, the grips molded to his hands. The only difference between the two blades were the crests from the Keepers of the Moon and Seekers of the Sun adorning the guards, one on each. "He made those for me."

"And fine pieces o' work they are, to be sure," Jacke picked one of them up, balancing it on his finger. "Yer pop was good with his hands."

"Better with a bow, believe me. But no one matched my mother." Memories of learning to shoot pushed forwards in his mind, the soft green glades of the forest around him, the distant metal strikes of a hammer in the village's forge as his father worked. "We got by well enough, and what the forest couldn't provide... well, the odd caravan could. Never had to draw blood, but we did make off with some food once in a while, or a bit of coin to trade with the odd traveling merchant for ore."

"Explains a lot," Merlwyb nodded. "We had plenty of reports of Mi'qote thieves among the Shroud, but left it to the Snakes to sort out."

"Heh. Snakes couldn't find us if they wanted to, and they certainly lost enough weapons trying to for them to give up on it," C'ael'a chuckled before growing uncharacteristically grim. "... the Garleans, however..." He took in a deep breath, waiting for a moment. "Some of our hunters came across them in the forest, and managed to down a few before running back home. But they were wounded, and didn't cover their tracks well enough. It wasn't 24 bells before we could hear their airships coming."

The Admiral was silent, arching her fingers together and seeming to look through C'ael'a. Jacke's grin faded, and he carefully set the dagger he'd been fiddling with back down. "Most of our fighters were already hurt, and it didn't take long for the troops to start rushing in. My father grabbed his knives and went off to fight, my mother her bow, and tossed me my own daggers." C'ael'a stopped, recalling the screams, the odor of timbers burning on the edges of the village. "But she wouldn't let me go help in the battle. Instead she told me to take the elderly and the children and flee. That the rest would buy us some time to get away."

He gave himself another moment, swallowing down the burning in his throat. "Most of the elders had moved into the village with my parents, but I had grown up there my entire life. Knew the woods almost as well as I know those two blades," he nodded towards the daggers, crossed on the table. "Getting them out was easy. Watching the magitek armor drop into the center of the village and start blasting away... that part wasn't. I could see my father in the thickest part of the fight. He even managed to take down one of the armored walkers before he got surrounded. And I could hear my mother's arrows launching through the infantry's ranks almost as well as I could hear her bow snapping when they got her too."

"I did my part and got the rest of my tribe to one of the main roads. We were lucky, there was a caravan passing by. The leader could tell that something had happened, and all I had to do was explain there was a Garlean attack for him to notice the smoke rising over the forest in the distance. Guess he got lucky too, since he turned his group around and headed back towards Gridania to avoid running across the Garleans as he traveled. He agreed to see my tribe there."

"But you chose to come here," the Admiral noted.

C'ael'a gave a terse nod. "Needed to make money. And there's nowhere better to steal from than the largest trading port in Eorzea. I send most of what I manage to pilfer and trade for gil to Gridania so what's left of my village can live there." He finished and cleared his throat, staring at the desk.

Jacke let the silence hang for a minute. "Truly, a tale to set any heart bleedin'," he admonished, shaking his head and reaching for C'ael'a's weapons before tossing them into the Mi'qote's lap. "But the kind what makes a proper, upstanding rogue. See, we got three rules. Firstly, we don't swipe from other Lominsans. Leastways not the ways what are good and civil servants to the city. Folks what break the Code are another matter. Second, if a member of a crew helps finish a job, they get their fair share. Can't have our ranks tryin' to pilfer from one another, just wouldn't do. And thirdly, we don't trade in people. Beastkin or otherwise. Information, goods, what-have-ye else is all fine and proper though." He gave C'ael'a another grin, his former upbeat demeanor returning quickly. "And you, young thief, certainly seem the type to watch over his own."

"I agree," Merlwyb stood, reaching for her gun to holster it before reaching into her desk to pull out C'ael'a's charges again. "And I believe, in light of the circumstances, a pardon is the least I can do." She reached the paper over towards a candle burning on her desk, setting it to flame before tossing it into a small copper pot beside her.

"Aye, and the Guild can certainly see to the needs o' yer refugee tribe in Gridania," Jacke promised, crossing his arms. "We've got plenty o'daggers in them forests. Assuming, o'course," he turned to C'ael'a, giving him a knowing look. "That ye see fit to cast aside yer bilgewater ways and help us upstanding thieves keep this city clean. Well, clean-er. The Guild takes care o' its own, and has a soft spot for those what find themselves in need."

C'ael'a looked between the two, utterly astonished at what had just taken place. In just a few bells he had gone from a botched job, lances prodding him towards what he assumed was likely to be his last breath of free air, to having the leader of the city and a man who wasn't supposed to exist offer him a job. He rose, tying his belt around his waist and strapping the sheathes to his twin daggers around his thighs, securing the blades and feeling their familiar weight. "It's a lot better than rotting in the dungeons," he grinned, reaching down into his pants to pull a knife out, spinning it between his fingers before holstering it into an empty spot on his belt with a shrug towards the Admiral, who only raised her brows in a small bit of surprise. "Where do I sign up?"

"Ye got salt water between yer ears, boy?" Jacke asked, walking over and clapping him on the back. "Can't have a secret guild stay a secret fer long if we go about makin' things official on paper. Just join me fer a few rounds at the Wench and yer as good as any other rogue in the city. I think ye'll even find yer tab's already been covered. Good ol' Tenfingers is a close personal friend o' mine."

"That's fantastic, because I was starting to get worried he might come after me at some point," C'ael'a gave a sheepish grin, turning to walk away with Jacke. "Guess that means I can see my favorite waitress again."

Jacke gave a hearty laugh. "Aye, lad, that it does!"

"Looking forwards to working with you, C'ael'a," Merlwyb called out. "Oh, and do try to keep the Code in mind. So long as you follow it, you won't have to worry about the Yellowjackets any longer, even if they don't quite like your... activities."

"'Specially the bit what covers stealin' from Lominsans," Jacke added, tossing a ruby and ivory compass across the room to Merlwyb's waiting hand.

C'ael'a quickly patted his pockets down, wondering when Jacke had taken it before giving her a sheepish grin. "Ah... yeah. Sorta took that before the whole job offer thing," he coughed. "And please, you're both awful with Mi'qote pronunciation. My friends call me Cale."

"Strange name, that," Jacke said, guiding Cale towards the lift. "But a man's name is what he swears by, so that'd be as good a one as any. Now what say we drink to the ill health of Varis zos Galvus and all his kin?"

As the doors to the Lift shut and the elevator began to descend, Merlwyb sat back down in her chair and looked out over her desk, moving aside some of the papers sprayed across it to reveal maps of the Sahagin tribe's movement throughout the local areas. The Crow's Lift had hardly stopped moving before it began to rise again, and from it strode out a white haired Mi'qote, her bangs parted and held to the side in two thick tufts.

"Ah, Y'shtola," Merlwyb greeted, standing and nodding towards her. "I've just finished with him."

"So I noticed, I saw him on the way over," the conjurer cocked her head, looking towards the Admiral. "What did you think of him?"

Merlwyb raised her brows before walking over to a crystal decanter to pour herself a drink. "I believe he can be quite the asset to my city. I'm eager to see what Jacke can make of him."

Y'shtola nodded once. "I've no reason to doubt Minfilia on this, she wouldn't have seen a vision of his past without having met him if he didn't have the Echo. But I'm curious, why the charade to get him to talk about it himself?"

"Oh, just a precaution," Merlwyb sat down, sipping her drink. It burned on the way down, reminding her of days spent swabbing decks and nights on the gently rocking waves. "Jacke and I wouldn't trust him if he couldn't tell us the details on his own. We may be more than happy to help the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, but your leader's word alone isn't quite enough for me to give him full pardon. My apologies."

The white haired Mi'qote gave a small bow of the head. "None needed. The Scions appreciate your assistance in this matter. I'll have to arrange my own meeting with him sometime soon. Although I have no doubt that if Minfilia is correct I needn't try."

"If Minfilia is correct, we are all in much more danger than I would have liked." The Admiral turned her chair towards the wide windows at the rear of her office, letting out a deep sigh before downing her liquor and staring out over the rolling waves.

A part of her still yearned for the simple freedom of sailing towards that moonlit horizon.


End file.
